You Don't Have to Say Thank You
by imbloodycrowley
Summary: Set in s1e6 L.D.S.K. What if Morgan was in that room with Hotch, Reid, and the other hostages? What if he had to watch Reid, the man he considers his little brother, physically and verbally beaten by his superior? UPDATED! New, unrelated chapter! More Hotch and Reid (no slash) but this time its the other way around. Read to find out! Reviews are super
1. Chapter 1

**So… I know I haven't update my other stories since I'm a horrible person and all. I just haven't been feeling it /: anyways I'm posting this because I want to + I can. Set in S1E6 "L.D.S.K"**

"You know why they took away boy genius' gun?"

Reid glanced up at Hotch, realizing he was being talked about again.

"Why?" The UnSub only glanced briefly at Reid before looking back at Hotch, not paying the boy much mind.

"He failed his qualification. Twice a year I gotta listen to him whine about requalifying. So I tutor him… and he fails again."

Reid turned his gaze to Morgan, who sat on the other side of him. Looking up at him with wide, sad eyes.

Morgan wished this would quit, that it would all go away. Surely Reid had to know Hotch didn't mean these things that way, right? He was too smart for that. He forced himself not to make eye contact, although it was obvious the younger man wanted nothing more than to be acknowledged by Derek, just wanted a gaze to let him know it was all a show. He couldn't give it to him. Morgan kept his eyes on the unsub, doing his best to ignore his little brother. He knew Hotch was in conversation with the man, but he wasn't able to keep his concentration on them enough to keep track of the conversation.

"Can I ask you a favor?" Morgan glanced towards Hotch.

"You can ask." The killer answered, waiting to hear what the 'favor' may be.

"I figure the chances of my getting out of here alive are pretty slim." Hotch said, his face still only indifferent.

"So?"

"I want to kick the snot out of this kid."

Reid's head snapped the other way as he hurriedly looked up at his superior, his eyes impossibly wider than they already were.

"Hotch—"

"Morgan." Hotch snapped back, shooting him a glare. This was what they had to do to get out of this mess.

"He's made my life miserable for three lousy years." Hotch continued. Morgan felt something tighten around his wrist. He looked down to find Spencer's hand gripping there tightly, the boy's gaze back on him.

"Knock yourself out." Was the Unsub's answer, and that was all Hotch needed before he was out of his seat, knocking Reid to the ground.

Morgan felt Spencer's grip on his wrist be lost as soon as Hotch shoved him, and he had to consciously hold his own hands to his chest to stop from reaching out and dragging Reid back to his side—back to his protection.

"How smart are you now, smart guy?" Hotch's foot connected with Reid's ribs each time he spoke. "It's front sight, trigger press, follow through!" Each instruction was punctuated by another blow to Spencer's side.

Morgan gritted his teeth at Spencer's soft cries, forcing himself to finally glance the other way, unable to watch any longer.

"It's not that hard, a Dalmatian could do it!" Hotch's voice was so harsh, Morgan reminded himself once again that it was all an act.

"Let go, let go!" Hotch pulled his leg away from Spencer's hands, making sure the younger boy had the gun first.

"Feel better?" The man asked Hotch, who nodded, attempting to catch his breath. "I think he got the message."

Morgan reached over, attempting to pull Reid in closer once again, glancing up when he heard the unsub speak once again.

"What's that?" No sooner had the man lifted his gun to aim for Hotch's head, that he was on the ground, a bullet through his own. Morgan glanced down at Reid on the ground next to him, Hotch's backup gun in the kid's trembling hands.

As soon as he was able to finally make eye contact with Morgan, Spencer dropped the gun, crawling closer to his friend. He stopped when he was pressed closely to Derek's side, turning his head to rest his chin on his friend's shoulder, his eyes still on Morgan's face. Searching. Waiting for something, any acknowledgement.

"You did good, pretty boy." Morgan murmured, doing his best with his bound hands to comfort the poor kid. He reached over to mess with Reid's hair. "You did good."

Morgan sat next to Reid on the back of the ambulance, letting the kid stay as close as he needed. It made him feel better, anyways. He felt like he could protect him now, even if he hadn't been able to earlier. He felt the grip on his lower arm, and once again glanced down to find Reid's hand gripping there. When he glanced up, he quickly found out why. Hotch was coming over, seeming to keep his distance, attempting to gauge the situation.

"Reid.." Hotch started. "I hope I didn't hurt you too badly in there. I hope you know, those things I said.. I didn't mean a word of it."

"I know." Reid gave him a small smile, tilting his head. He was about to say something else when Hotch reached over in an attempt to squeeze Reid's shoulder, a brief show of affection—something Hotch didn't often allow himself with his teammates.

Reid tilted his head the other way, however, at the touch. Pressing further against Morgan, he gripped tighter at his friend's forearm.

Hotch pulled his hand back, allowing it to drop to his side. "Reid.."

"He just needs some space, Hotch. Give him that." It came out more harsh than Morgan had intended, but right now he was in protector mode, and wasn't sure he cared what Hotch felt at the moment.

Hotch stood for a moment, silent. He cast a glance at Reid again before turning to walk back the way he had come.

Morgan was quiet until Hotch was gone, then turning to glance back at his shadow, clinging to his arm. "Reid, look at me."

Reid lifted his head, his sad eyes meeting Morgan's once again. His grip loosened on his friend's arm.

"None of what he said in there—not a bit of it was true, okay? He doesn't feel that way about you, pretty boy. None of us do. You're not a nuisance , or—or a bother to anyone. Do you hear me?"

The only response he got was a nod, but he didn't miss the soft twitch at the side of Reid's mouth, the way he did when there was a smile that he didn't want to show, or—in this case—that the sadness just overwhelmed the brief moment of relief.

Reid rested his chin against his brother's shoulder, a soft sigh being the only noise he made, followed by a grimace as he reached one arm to wrap around his bruised ribs. "Morgan, if we go to the hospital—"

"We're going, Reid. That's not an _if_. And yes, I'll be right here with you the whole time, to answer your question."

All Morgan got in response to that was a smile—a real one this time—and his friend's body leaning against his once again. There was no need for a thank you—he got that from the look he was given. And that was really all he needed, because he understood.


	2. Chapter 2

**wrote in the last chapter and Reid was afraid of Hotch after the encounter. This time I wanted to try the complete opposite. What if Reid became unbelievably clingy afterwards? Please review!**

 _Morgan, Hotch, and Reid entered the abandoned hospital, guns drawn and ready._

 _"Clear!" Hotch called, glancing around as he lowered his weapon._

 _"Clear!" Morgan called, looking over his shoulder._

 _One second passed. Two, three, four._

 _"Reid?"_

 _Nothing._

 _"Reid?"_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Were you ever spanked as a child, Doctor Reid?"

Reid tilted his head at the question, his eyes narrowing.

"Answer me." The man who held the three men hostage demanded, stepping closer to the young doctor.

Reid sat up straighter, meeting the man's gaze. "No."

"No. Obviously not. Your father walked out on you, and your mother was a paranoid scitzophrenic. Not to mention, you were the perfect child, were you not?"

Reid glanced towards Hotch, and then to his friend beside him. He wasn't sure where this was going.

"Why don't we change that then, hm? Why don't we change that today? Right now."

Reid shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean."

Morgan growled. "You touch him you son of a bitch, and I swear to god—"

"Oh, I'm not going to touch him, agent Morgan. You're mistaken. That will be your boss' job. You can help to hold the boy still."

Reid made some soft noise; Morgan barely heard it. He couldn't focus on anything. He was fuming. "You sick son of a bitch. Why the hell would—"

"Would you do that?" The unsub finished, waving his gun in Morgan's face. "I think you know, Agent Morgan. We wouldn't want there to be any unfortunate accident."

"You need to let us go." Hotch spoke up, ignoring the man's implications. "If you'll just let us leave—"

"No, Agent Hotchner. You're not going to be leaving this place. Not until you've done exactly as I say." The man went to hover over Hotch from where he sat. "Your father was abusive, was he not? He beat you all through your childhood. You and your mother, yes?"

Hotch's face was unreadable. "You need to let us go." He repeated.

"Well, I'm going to allow you to get that frustration out. All that built up hate, that anger towards your father. You're going to do what your father did to you. Only Agent Reid will be you. You'll be playing your father."

Morgan hadn't ever heard Hotch growl before then. He watched his superior rise to his feet, never breaking eye contact with the unsub. "I will not."

"You will." The man shot his gun to the wall right next to Morgan, proving the gun was loaded. "Don't think I'm bluffing. I've killed before. I'll have no problem doing it again." 

Hotch kept his gaze on the man for a long moment, before finally turning, leaning over to start pulling Reid up by his elbow. "Get up, Reid."

Reid stared up at his boss, standing as he was told, making no attempt to pull his arm away. Morgan stood as well, staying close to Reid. The darker man already wore a pained expression.

Hotch didn't have to be told what to do. He already knew what the unsub wanted. How could he forget? He remembered every moment of what his father did to him and his mother. And if they were to get out of this alive, he was going to have to play along. He guided his younger counterpart to the examination table, slipping his hand up to the back of Reid's neck and guiding him over it, softly kicking one of Reid's feet out to spread them apart for him to properly bend over it.

He leaned over next to Reid, forcing himself to make eye contact. "Aaron," He started, assuming the unsub wanted him to use his name to address Reid. "If you stand up I'm going to start over, and it's going to be much worse for you." He repeated back the words his father had said to him time and time again. Hotch was doing a good job of keeping a stoic face, but Morgan didn't miss the slight quiver of his lower lip. Hotch hated himself for what he was about to do.

Tilting his head towards Morgan, he nodded to the opposite side of the table. "Hold him there. If you let him get up it'll be bad for the both of you." He assumed Morgan was playing his mother in this scenario. If Reid was him, and he was his father, that only left his mother.

Morgan met Hotch's eyes for a moment, lowering them as he slowly walked around to the side opposite Reid, leaning over as well, bracing his arms on the table. "Look at me, kid—Aaron." He corrected himself, refusing to look over at the unsub.

Reid made eye contact, but quickly averted his gaze as Hotch unbuckled his belt. The young doctor moved around nervously, his gaze darting between Morgan and the table.

Morgan brought a hand around the back of Reid's head, slipping a hand up into his hair. He gripped it softly, more as a reassurance than an act of restraint. "I've got you."

Reid jolted forward at the first lick, his eyes wide. He met Derek's gaze again before casting his glance downward, afraid of being unable to keep his composure. When the next strike fell, he was ready, and only squirmed a bit at the third and fourth blows after that. When the fifth blow landed at the top of his thighs he made a noise, glancing up at Morgan again.

Morgan took one of his friend's hands, guiding it to his shirt, allowing Reid something to grip at.

"You've been a bad boy." Hotch started, repeating the words he'd been told all through his childhood. "Very bad; that's why I have to do this, you know." His voice, thick with emotion, only faltered as he finished his sentence, landing another blow.

Reid was starting to rise up on his toes at each strike, pulling at Morgan's shirt as he made soft whimpering noises, scooting further up the table with each blow. He swallowed thickly before attempting to speak. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Hotch—Dad, I'm sorry. I'll be good." His voice wasn't much above a whisper, but he made sure the man could hear.

"You will." Hotch stated, placing a hand on Reid's back. He held it there as he landed the last blows, which had the boy nearly crawling completely over the table, into Morgan's arms. Hotch took him by the elbow again, turning him around. "Look at me."

Reid lifted glassy eyes to meet Hotch's, more than surprised to see unshed tears in the older man's eyes as well. "You'll behave yourself from now on, yes?"

Reid only nodded, ducking his head as he broke eye contact. "Yes, sir." He answered softly, wringing his hands. Apparently the sick man who watched them from across the room approved, because he began to clap. "Bravo! Beautiful! I only hope that you can learn from this! You—" His sentence was cut short by a gunshot to the stomach, sending him falling back. Hotch glanced over his shoulder at Morgan, who had taken the man's distraction to his advantage and moved back across the room to retrieve his gun.

Hotch turned back to Reid, not daring to make a move towards him. "Reid—"

Reid stepped forward to wrap his arms around Hotch in a hug, allowing his chin to rest on his friend's shoulder. "Hotch, its okay. You're not your father. I know you didn't want to. You didn't mean it." He murmured before Hotch could say any of it. As he spoke, he finally allowed his tears to fall, making the shoulder of his boss' shirt damp.

Hotch brought shaking hands up to place them on Reid's back, hugging him tightly. He was afraid of showing too much emotion if he spoke, so instead he stayed silent.

On the plane back home, Morgan had tried again and again to talk Reid into letting him check how bad the damage was. Reid, of course, refused. He said he'd get it checked out by a doctor once they were back home. Morgan knew he was lying. He also couldn't help but notice how clingy Reid had been every since they left the crime scene. Not to him, but to Hotch.

Hotch hadn't spoken much since they'd left—not that he was particularly chatty on any given day, but he was especially quiet now. Reid had followed him closely until they'd gotten on the jet, at which point he'd promptly sat next to his boss once they all took their seats.

Morgan wasn't sure what it was, but Hotch didn't seem bothered by it at all. Maybe Reid wanted the man to know he wasn't upset, or scared of him. Maybe Reid wanted to make sure he was alright. Maybe he thought that Hotch needed that reassurance that he wasn't afraid. Maybe he was right.

When the jet landed, Morgan grabbed Reid's arm as he quickly tried to follow Hotch out. "Hey, kid, hold up. Talk to me."

"Morgan, let go." Reid pulled his arm away, turning quickly to catch up to the older man.

Morgan finally drew the line later that afternoon when he caught Reid following Hotch to the bathroom. "Alright, that's enough." He snatched Reid's wrist, stopping him in his tracks. "What's this about? Give him some space, kid."

"He's not bothering me, Morgan." Hotch spoke for the first time in a while. "Let him go."

Morgan let Reid's arm go, letting out a sigh. "Come on. You guys, we gotta talk about this. We gotta talk about what happened back there. And—and whatever's going on here."

Reid glanced towards Hotch, unconsciously moving a bit closer.

"Reid.." Hotch glanced towards the younger man, making eye contact. "I'm sorry for what I had to do to you back there. I don't… I don't want you to be afraid of me for it."

"Hotch, I'm not scared of you.." Reid started, wringing his hands together. "I'm not. I'm scared of what you'll do to yourself. I don't want you to drive yourself crazy over it. Please. I know that all those memories came back when he made you do that. So… if you need to talk, I'm here for you."

Hotch pressed his lips together, meeting Reid's eyes once again. Everything that was unspoken between the two was said there, with one gaze. Reid stepped in to embrace Hotch, letting out a quiet sigh.

"There." Morgan folded his arms. "Now that's more like it."


End file.
